


On The Spot Tells You Who Your Real Friends Are

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Join Me, M/M, also welcome to rareship hell, on the spot is great for dialogue which ive been having some trouble with, this is mostly banter practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Blaine get paired up against Michael and Ray on an episode of On The Spot. Who wins this battle of comedy attrition? The underdog and the golden child, or the team of two aces? Well, the audience wins, mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Spot Tells You Who Your Real Friends Are

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched On The Spot #29 today, and uh. Yeah. This happened. I really just needed to practice banter, and I figured, hey, why not include one of my extremely rare pairs into it?

“My first team is here today from the wilds of the Adirondack mountain range. A fine bunch of gents who are the faces of southern hospitality, and no, not the sex move of the same name, it’s Ryan Haywood and Blaine Gibson!”  

Ryan heard the audience in front of them applaud, a couple people wolf whistling as Blaine flexed his arms for the camera. Typical Blaine, had to ham it up for the camera. Ryan rolled his eyes and gave the camera a quick wave before Jon continued.

“My second team are a combination of the already fired, and should have been fired a long time ago when they threw an xbox into the parkinglot and filled Burnie’s car with milk in the middle of summer, whoops, I wan’t supposed to say that. It’s Ray Narvaez and Michael Jones!”

The audience clapped again, and Ray gave Jon one of his best fake-offended looks.

“Uh, it’s Narvaez Jr. Thanks Jon.”

“Well, you’re not on the employee roster anymore, I can’t just look it up now.”

“Sick burn, Jon, really hitting the heights of comedy here,” Blaine piped up from beside Ryan, causing someone in the audience to snort loudly. Blaine pointed to them with a proud smile, turning to Ryan for approval.

He’d been a little hesitant to be on a team with Blaine at first. C’mon, the guy was a wet blanket on every team he’d been on, for god’s sake. But Blaine had requested him specifically, for reasons Ryan was sure were mysterious and vague, and probably wouldn’t be explained. He’d even come up to his desk and given the gent his best puppy dog eyes. If pressed, Ryan would have to admit that he made a very convincing argument. He just couldn’t say no to that face. Wait, what?

“I’m your host, Jon Risinger and welcome to On The Spot!”

The theme played, Ray and Michael doing a little in-their-seats dance as the graphics finished up onscreen for the viewers at home.

“So can you explain to me why Ryan has suddenly abandoned me?” Ray asks, directed more at Risinger than Ryan himself. “The R&R connection, Ryan, what happened?” He gestures wildly at Blaine, a playful smile plastered across his face.

“Hey, if you wanted to R&R connection it up, you shoulda asked sooner.” Ryan shrugged, more to camera than directly at Ray.

“Alright, alright, bickering aside, we have a few bits of business to take care of before you idiots can derail my show and get me cancelled-“

“Harsh words, Jon.”

“Shut up, Blaine. Anyway, team names! Let’s start with Blaine and Ryan, since they just can’t wait to get started.”

Blaine looked over at Ryan, a silent, pleading look on his face that almost screamed “I have absolutely nothing, please help me”. Ryan sighed, then took a second to think, before the greatest idea he’d ever had suddenly popped into his head.

“Hashtag, that’s the word hashtag, not a pound symbol, Team Hot Blondes.” Ryan turned and gave his teammate a sly smile.

“Ryan the apt names guy,” Blaine replies, giving his shoulder a playful punch. Which actually sorta hurt.

“Alright, Hashtag Team Hot Blondes. And over on the right we have-“

“Team Not Blondes,” Michael interjects before Jon can even finish his sentence.

“Okay, sure. So we have Ryan and Blaine on Hashtag Team Hot Blondes, and Ray and Michael on Team Not Blondes. No hashtag.”

Jon sighs, before launching back into his host-mode speech.

“Right, so let’s move onto our first game,” he continued, waiting for the graphic to pop for the at home viewers. “Sync about it! Alright, so Sync About It is a game where you guys are each going to be given a question. They’re gonna answer the question one word at a time back and forth between teammates! The twist is: as you guys answer the question, you’ll hear the bell,” Jon paused to ring the little bike bell that had been stolen more than once from the set for one prank or another, and was now thoroughly dented and discolored. “That means the other team can interject with a word and you guys have to continue with your sentence using that word. Does that make sense to all of you?”

“What did you say, Jon, me and Michael were too busy touching dicks over here to listen to you drone on.” Ryan looked over, seeing Ray and Michael both holding a ripped piece of notebook paper with the word “dicks” printed on it in messy block capitals. The audience let out a huge laugh, and Ryan could barely hold back a laugh himself. Jon put his head in this hands and just generally looked like a man on a ledge.

“Jon, I think this show is gonna kill you,” Blaine interjects helpfully, which causes the laugh caught in Ryan’s throat to expand, until his face was almost contorted with trying to hold it in.

“Yeah, it probably will. Anyway, before we can have any more derailments, which I get is a big thing to ask for, let’s give Team Not Blondes their topic, which is…”

“Are you kidding me?” Michael groans, as the graphic pops up on the screen above Jon’s head.

“How to make a good porno! Interesting topic. Alright, sixty seconds on the clock! Ready, set, go.”

“Uh…First,” Michael started.

“You.”

“Have.”

“To.”

“Get.”

Jon rang the bell, and Ryan blurted out the first word that came to mind. “Blaine.” Fuck.

“And.”

“Ryan.”

“In.”

“A.”

“Room.”

“Then.”

“You.”

“Turn.”

“The.”

Another ring, and this time Blaine saved Ryan from further embarrassment. “Nightlight.”

“On.”

“And.”

“They.”

“Go.”

“To.”

“Sleep.”

“Annnnnd time’s up!”

Michael and Ray both dissolve into a sea of giggles, presumably at their own stupid answer.

“Well, that’s the best porno idea I’ve ever heard,” Jon says, fully serious, as if they’d just described the Mona Lisa of porn ideas.

“Sounds like something menopausal white grandmas get off on,” Blaine laughs, and something in Ryan’s chest tightens. Dear lord, he was having trouble not making stupid flirty comments, especially with the subject at hand.

That was strange, the whole “wanting to flirt with Blaine” thing. They barely ever saw each other, and when they did, it was just pleasantries and generic conversation. But sitting here on stage was like seeing a whole different side of him.

“Aw, dude, are we starting with the granny jacking this early? Usually we get to at least midroll.”

“Nah, I bring the comedy, and I bring it early,” Blaine replies proudly.

“Where do you bring it, ‘cause you’re not bringing it here,” Michael snarks, finally regaining control of his laughter.

Blaine opens his mouth to defend himself, only to be cut off by Jon.

“Alright, enough vamping, we have the full version of the beautiful story you guys just came up with.” He waits for the graphic before continuing, “First you have to get Blaine and Ryan in a room, then you turn the nightlight on and they go to sleep.”

“I mean, I’d watch that,” Ryan interjects when Jon finishes.

“Suuure you would, Rye Bread.”

“Anyway, continuing with the show, Hashtag Team Hot Blondes, it’s your turn to sync about it. And your topic is…”

“Oh jesus.”

“How to seduce the host of Rage Quit!”

“Alright, we got this. We’re on the same page, right?” Ryan turned to Blaine, who gave an exaggerated, for camera, thumbs up.

“Sixty seconds on the clock, aannnndd…go!”

“Be.”

“Ray.”

The audience exploded into laughter, and neither Ryan or Blaine continued, despite Jon waiting expectantly.

“What? That’s it, that’s how you do it. Cut, print.”

“So that’s what you’re going with? Two words? Blaine, you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah. That’s what you gotta do, those are the steps.”

Michael was giving them a deathglare from across the stage, and Ray was just sitting there, his face covered in a blush.

“In a stunning act of betrayal that breaks all of the show’s rules, Hashtag Team Hot Blondes has decided to forfeit their remaining time. Their final sentence is just “Be Ray.”

At this point, even Jon descended into giggles. Ryan looked over at Blaine, seeing the pride on his face clear as day. There’s a look of pride on Ryan’s face too, not only for pushing Michael one step closer to confessing his obvious crush on Ray, but also for making the smile on Blaine’s adorable face get even bigger. Man, he was really thinking about Blaine a lot today, wasn’t he?

“Uh…alright, so it’s time to award points. Gonna have to give 50 points to Hashtag Team Hot Blondes for that unconventional gamble. Really paid off for you guys.”

“Alright, but that’s total bullshit! They said two words!” Michael yells in an attempt to pull back the points from the point of defeat.

“And you guys came up with the tamest porno I’ve ever heard. So unless you can somehow turn that mess into a completely different type of mess, I gotta give points to Ryan and Blaine.”

Michael sat back in his chair, the picture of exaggerated, childlike brooding. Ray just laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Alright, now that that’s over with, we can move onto our next game: ABCs of Storytelling! I’m sure you’re all familiar with this one, so I’ll keep it brief. Basically, you start on a letter, and have to play out a scenario using the sequential alphabet, minus x and z, which you get bonus points for using. You’ll have sixty seconds on the clock. Team Not Blondes, you guys ready to start us off?”

“Sure, lay it on me Risemonger,” Ray answers chipperly.

“So, your scenario is…Michael is an investment banker that’s trying to get into the pants of a clerk, that’d be you, Ray, who only wants to make a huge commission off of his transaction.”

“Goddamnit, why am I always after Ray’s dick in these things?” Michael complains jovially.

“Implying you aren’t in real life?” Blaine quips, causing Ryan to almost spit out the sip of Diet Coke he’d been drinking, and sending the audience into another paroxysm of laughter at the flustered lad’s expense. Someone in the back whose voice sounds suspiciously like Geoff’s yells “just kiss already!” Michael just blushes a deep shade of red, not saying anything to defend himself.

“Quiet, Gibson. Alright, Team Not Blondes, you’re starting with the letter D, with sixty seconds on the clock.”

“Dick!” Michael blurts out before Ray can even say anything.

“Excuse me?”

“Fucking…I want a loan.”

“Great, I can do that for you.”

“Honey, I don’t mean that kind of loan.”

“I mean, what else is there to loan?”

“Just your heart.”

“Kidding, right?”

“Less than 100% serious.”

“Maybe we should focus on the cash.”

“No, let’s talk more about you.”

“Oh, I think we shouldn’t.”

“Probably should.”

“Queen…is a great band?”

The buzzer sounds, and Michael slaps Ray’s shoulder playfully and yells “Queen? Of all the q words you decide to go with queen?”

“Listen, I had to go fast!”

“Alright, quiet down, girls, you’re both pretty. And sitting on a pretty pile of points, too. Hashtag Team Hot Blondes, you ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be, Jon.”

“Alright, your scenario is…Ryan is a housewife looking to spice up the bedroom, and Blaine is a beleaguered husband who just wants to sleep. Starting with the letter J and sixty seconds on the clock, go!”

Ryan looks over at Blaine for this, to make sure they’re on the same page. Or, at least it’s to tell himself it’s because he wants to cooperate. Really, he just wants to see more of his teammate’s especially good looking face. Was that a real thought he just had? These sudden repressed gay thoughts about Blaine were getting to be more of a burden than anything else.

“Uh…just how many spices can you name, dear?” Blaine manages to fumble his first sentence, but Ryan immediately gets what he’s going for. ‘Spice up’. Like, actual kitchen spices. They were gonna give Barb a run for her money.

“Kalen, dear, I can name several.” Ryan winces at his first sentence. Never good to start out with a proper noun, especially not one that wasn’t easily recognizable as a name.

“Lemon pepper is the only one I know.”

“Mustard is one.”

“Nutmeg is another good one.”

“Onion powder?”

“Paprika.”

“Quite a lot already!”

“Rosemary is another one?” Ryan could start to see Blaine having trouble coming up with more. He had probably already finished all the ones he knew off the back of the barbecue sauce bottle.

“Saffron and Thyme are more.”

“Thyme?”

“Uh-huh, and vanilla.”

“Vanilla’s not a spice.”

“What do you mean? Vanilla totally is a spice.”

“Time, time, time!” Jon calls out as the buzzer sounds, over the stifled laughing of Michael and Ray. “What the fuck, guys? What was that?”

“You said to spice it up! So we spiced it up! Literal spices.” Ryan gestures wildly, his voice raising up an octave.

“Five points for clever interpretation! Do we have the scores tallied up yet?”

“Well, you forgot to do it after the last game, so they should already be ahead,” Ray points out from the other side of the set, causing Jon to facepalm, and not for the first time that night.

“I was hoping no one would point it out.”

“Well, you know, I aim to displease.”

“Right.” Jon gave him a wicked sideeye, then turned back to camera. “Anyway, the current score is 125 points for Hashtag Team Hot Blondes, and a whopping 70 for Team Not Blondes. And so, it’s time for a redemption challenge!”

Michael and Ray gave each other a look that only those scared for the sake of their stomachs can muster and turned back to Jon. Hopefully their redemption challenge wasn’t a rerun of the mystery chocolate that still haunted Ryan’s dreams sometimes. Thankfully, it was something much more tame.

“Michael, I’ll award you 55 points if you kiss Ray, right here on set.”

Ryan could see Michael’s eyes widen behind the wire frames of his glasses. He glanced over at Ray, who just shrugged.

“Alright, challenge accepted, Risemonger.”

Michael grabbed Ray by the lapels, almost pulling him out of his seat, and planted a quick kiss on the other lad’s lips, blushing like mad the entire time. He sat back down quickly, trying to ignore the wolf whistles from the audience. Ray seemed dazed, a hazy smile stuck on his face.

“Damn, if I knew all it took was 50 points for you to kiss me I would’ve tried way less hard.”

“Hey! No throwing my game for your own selfish gain!” The host admonished. “Regardless, you guys are tied up now at 125. With just enough time for our final game: Quick Thinking! Another classic that I’m sure you know the rules of, but here goes anyway. Teams alternate between players giving answers to fit a prompt and a letter. I give points to ones I like, and none to those I don’t. Ready?”

“You’re a master at keeping things on track, Jon.”

“Shut up, Blaine.”

“Hey, don’t be rude, Risinger. You forget who’s on Blaine’s team this week.” Ryan tuts, scolding the host like one would a small child.

“Yeah, Jon. You can’t even make me feel bad about losing this week, ‘cause I’m not losing!”

“Only cause Ryan’s pulling all the weight!” Ray heckles, which causes Blaine to quiet down. It was slightly true, after all. He was definitely less buff than Blaine, and Ryan’s arms were getting tired from having to carry his team the whole time. Not that he would tell him that, of course. The look on Blaine’s face whenever they were ahead in points was too adorable to pass up.

“Alright, both of you shush. Our first topic is: Things you find in your bed after a night of partying. Starting with the letter B. Annnnd, Ryan, go.”

“Blaine.”

“Sure. Michael.”

“Booze.”

“Sure. Blaine.”

“Uh…bottles?”

“Sure. Ray.”

“Bats?”

“What? No. Ryan.” The letter onscreen changed to a stylized r.

“Ray’s stupid shoes. Not him, just his shoes.”

“Sure. Michael.”

“Ray. Minus his shoes, that are apparently in Ryan’s bed.”

“Sure.” As he talked, the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the first half. “Okay, new topic. What you wear under a fancy tux. Starting with the letter N. Michael, you start.”

“Nothing.”

“Sure. Blaine.”

“Nutstrap. Like a jockstrap, but just for your nuts.”

“Sure. Ray.”

“Nutella, just spread all over.”

“Gross, but sure. Ryan.”

“Uh…neko ears?”

“I mean, sure. Micahel.”

“Nudist compulsory uniform.”

“Not sure what that means, but sure. Blaine.”

“No clothes. As in, you’re not wearing the tuxedo at all.”

“Sure.” Once again, the buzzer sounds, cutting Jon off midsentence.

“Alright, that’s it for the games. We should have final points in a second, but it was really down to the line there.”

“Pretty sure I cinched it with nutstrap.”

“Actually, you might have. Final score is 155 points to Hashtag Team Hot Blondes, and 150 points to Team Not Blondes. So, Ryan and Blaine, you win the golden Gus for this week!”

“YES! VICTORY!” Blaine almost screams, nearly leaping from his seat, arms raised in celebration. The audience starts to clap furiously, the few of them there sounding all the more intense in victory than they had in a tie. Wow, that line of thought got really deep for being about a quirky gameshow.

“Alright, well that’s it for On The Spot! See you all next week!”

Ryan waves to the camera as it panned away, the ubiquitous music playing over the speakers. Blaine keeps making victory poses in front of one of the cameras, celebrating his first real win. When the cameras finally stopped recording, Michael and Ray were gone in a flash, probably gone somewhere to finally tell each other about their huge, requited crushes. Finally. It’s been 84 goddamn years.

Ryan, however, had a different plan. One that involved a victory dinner that wasn’t just him eating shitty Chinese food alone in his apartment.

“Hey, Blaine?” He called out to the figure walking off set. Blaine waited for him to catch up, a confused look on his face.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you felt like going out for a victory dinner. My treat.”

“Like, a friendly dinner, or like, a date kindof dinner?” He looked at him, the confusion clear as day on his face.

“Well, I was kinda hoping for it to be a date.”

“And I was kinda hoping you’d ask.”


End file.
